Broken Angel

“She can paint a pretty picture, but this story has a twist. Her bush is her razor and her canvas is her wrist” – unknown

They say once something is broken, it will never really be whole again. The pieces can be glued back together, but the cracks still show. No matter how much time, effort, love and affection go into the repair, it will never be the same as it once was.

“Broken Angel” follows the life of a girl from the busy streets of London. She has been through her whole life bullied and pushed into the darkness, no one has noticed how broken and close to the edge she is. She teeters on the tips of her toes on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall to the end of her life. However, when a boy from Holmes Chapel falls into her life- literally-, will she turn and run or allow him to help her heal?

“Ballet first, School second, then that garbage you call a boyfriend will come last… Amelia, I know what’s best for you”

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1. Chapter One

“Start in 1st position, 2 demi plies, 1 grande, tendu to second, 2 demis 1 grande, tendu 4th, repeat plies, tendu to 5th”

 

Every little girl dreams of becoming a ballerina, to dance in front of a large audience gracefully and to be a perfect ballerina, but not every little girl has the potential or the body shape to become one.

 

Being a ballerina isn’t as easy as it looks when you are a young five year old girl. There is a lot of work put into staying thin and perfecting every step. Even when you have everything perfected, there still is a lot of criticism not only towards your performance, but to your body shape and the execution of every little hand placement. You need to have the perfect body. No teacher can stress that enough.

 

I was like every other five year old girl when I was younger, I had my hopes set on becoming the best ballerina in London, the UK even. What set me apart from every other girl though, was how hard I was willing to work to get there. I would stop at nothing. And I didn’t.

 

“Amelia!” I shook my head and turned my attention to Mrs Archer, she had been my dance teacher for seven years. Before Mrs Archer became my teacher, we had moved around to different studios a lot. Dad was never satisfied with how I danced with them. But with Mrs Archer… he got what he wanted, so we stayed. “Do as I have told. Now is not the time to zone off!”

 

“Yes Mrs Archer” I nod and place my hand on the bar. I could see my father shake his head at me as I looked in the mirror. I focussed again, turning my feel out.

 

I would stop at nothing if it meant pleasing my dad. If it were up to me and my feelings only, I would have quit dancing when I was fifteen. All of the pain and criticism wasn’t worth it. Your feet are always sore and there are endless injuries while you are learning a new advanced step. Every step has a danger to hurting your ankle, or knee and your toes.

 

But of course I couldn’t quit. When I had brought the matter up with my parents, my dad had gotten angry and since then I have been trying to gain his love back.

 

“Great, Amelia.” dad says. “Could you try an arabesque?”

 

I knew he wasn’t asking me. It was a statement. He was telling me to do it. I looked to Mrs Archer.

 

“Sir, that’s not possible just yet. Her feet aren’t stretched properly. I-” Mrs Archer tries to disagree, but it’s my dad she is speaking to. He always gets his way.

 

“Mary! I am the father. I pay you to teach my daughter. I think she has stretched enough, so she will do as I say!”

 

I let my hand drop from the bar as I walk towards the middle of the studio. I didn’t agree with my dad, I wasn’t stretched properly yet. I could break my ankle, my toe, if I fell I could break anything.

 

“Alright Amelia?” I nodded at my father’s words and slowly lifted myself onto my toes. I brought my leg out and leaned forward, keeping my arms out for balance. “Hold it, keep your stomach sucked in, you need to go to the gym more often.”

 

My ankle lost its strength. I fell.

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